dirty laundry
grief hangs on the clothesline
drenched in rainwater
ring it out with weary hands
and weepy eyes
unhook the clothespins and grasp fabric
picking dead fruit from the vine
and shoving it in a plastic basket
repeat the cycle, set to delicates
the countdown begins
on the shuddering machine
pull out warmth and fold sentimentality
in silky rags
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